


amor ex sepulchrum

by LaVoileBlanche



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e10 By the Light of Dawn, Love Confessions, M/M, spoilers for 2x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVoileBlanche/pseuds/LaVoileBlanche
Summary: My version of what was going through Magnus and Alec's heads before and during that iconic scene in the winter finale.





	1. i - Alec

The Institute is full of bodies. Alec sprints to the centre of the building without looking too closely at any of them – he knows that many are Shadowhunters, people he’s worked with, people he knows, and he doesn't want to face that yet. The Institute just lit up like a beacon, and that can only mean one thing – there are more deaths to face, more bodies to bury. He can't start processing who’s dead until he knows who isn't. He steps over a Circle member and into the ops room, and here, the bodies are thicker on the ground than anywhere - Downworlder bodies, twisted and scorched, some of them beyond recognition. The confirmation of what that blazing light had been hits Alec like a punch – he had wanted so desperately to be wrong. 

“No…” he says.

He looks up; Jace, Clary and Simon, looking like they’re barely holding it together.

“You did this,” he says to Clary. He cannot understand why. “You activated the sword?”

There’s a muted horror climbing up his spine, something pressing on him that he can’t consider just yet. Clary shakes her head.

“No, I–” she says. She looks at Jace helplessly.

“I did it.” His voice is wrecked, like someone has gone over his vocal chords with sandpaper. When he looks at Alec, his eyes are wet. “I thought I was destroying it, Alec, but–”

_ But _ . Alec casts his eyes again over the bodies on the floor. There are so many of them. The thought that’s been buzzing steadily at the back of his mind comes forward, and he feels his stomach turn inside out with fear. Clary had been with Magnus. If she is here–

“Where’s Magnus?” he asks. His heart is starting to pick up; he can feel it, a rapid drum beat in his chest. “He wasn't here, was he?”

Jace looks lost; he shakes his head.

“I– I don't know,” he says. Alec reminds himself to breathe through the sudden seize of his heart.

“We portaled in upstairs,” Clary says. “We split up.”

She offers this out to him without hope, without promise. He doesn't have time for that – there is a tidal wave of fear crashing against the inside of his ribcage. A noose of terror around his throat.

“Oh, God,” he hears himself say. He’s most of the way out of the door when he hears Jace call brokenly after him, and he doesn't stop. 

He runs back through every room, terrified of what he will find. There are more bodies than he can count, and the idea that any one of them might be Magnus’ scares him more than he thought anything could. There is panic building steadily in his chest, pouring into his lungs until they feel tight and full, until his breath comes in pants. And still he cannot find Magnus. He remembers his phone, pulls it out of his pocket and tries Magnus’ number as he goes from room to room. No answer. He tries again, with the same result, and again, and again, his thumb trembling over Magnus’ name on the screen. No answer. There are a few survivors left, dazed and stumbling, waiting for orders, but Alec cannot give them anything until he has been over the Institute with a fine-toothed comb, until he can be sure, absolutely sure, that Magnus is alive. Magnus has to be alive.

He must spend hours searching. The sun comes up, and he has torn through every room, held his breath passing through every door in case Magnus is the next body he finds. He has tried Magnus’ number a hundred times. There is nothing. There is nowhere Alec has not looked, and there is still  _ nothing _ to prove that Magnus survived what all those other Downworlders couldn't. Alec’s heart has become the loudest thing in the world, and its uneven beat is starting to sound like Magnus’ name, a tripping double-beat, the speed of a racehorse, a stampede. He cannot bear to think that his last memory of Magnus may be that he walked away from him without looking back.

He cannot bear to think that he may never get to tell Magnus that losing him is the scariest thing he can imagine.

Out on the Institute steps, Shadowhunters are rushing past, portaled in from other cities, an emergency support force. Alec scans each face that passes him in desperate, pleading hope, and can feel the earth slipping out from under him when Magnus does not appear.  _ Please _ , he thinks,  _ please, please, please.  _ He is shaking. He cannot breathe.

A hand on his arm. He turns, and in an instant the world snaps back to rights, and he throws himself at Magnus and fills his senses with the proof of him, real and beautiful and safe. Magnus’ arms around him. Magnus’ scent in his nose. Magnus’ breath against his cheek. Magnus, Magnus, Magnus. Alive. He pulls away. His heart has not yet calmed.

“Magnus, I thought–” he cannot say it. It’s too raw, still, too dreadful. He can picture it too easily. He feels dizzy.

“I found Madzie,” Magnus says. “I got her out just in time, I took her to Catarina’s. She’s safe.”

Magnus says this as though it is the most important thing he can give Alec in this moment. Alec nods along, barely understanding, his thoughts spinning out in a bleeding tangle of relief. 

“Look,” he says, “Magnus, on every mission I’ve ever been on I’ve never felt that type of fear. Ever. Not knowing if you were alive or dead I– I was terrified.”

Magnus’ face softens, and he reaches out, touches Alec’s elbow. Amazing how the simple touch of his fingertips redefines Alec’s universe.

“So was I,” he says softly. Alec’s heart is going to burst. He has a feeling he will never live through a moment like this again. He has a feeling like the world in its entirety means less than the man in front of him. There is something in him that is holy and burning, like he has become the angel’s sword. He feels electric, he feels illuminated, he feels like time has stopped for this.

“Magnus, I– I love you,” he says. It hardly feels like enough.

Magnus looks at him and shakes his head – small, wondrous motion, like he cannot believe what Alec has said. And then, “I love you, too.”

Alec kisses him with everything he’s worth. It is frantic and desperate, and no less perfect for all of that. When he pulls away, Alec leans their foreheads together and squeezes his eyes closed and feels crystallised. There is unspeakable relief in the way their noses brush against each other. Alec moves only to clutch Magnus to him so close he can feel both of their heartbeats. He buries his face in Magnus’ shoulder and breathes like he hasn't since before the sword was activated, breathes and breathes, like a man clawing his way back to life. Magnus holds him just as tightly back, and Alec thinks that the circle of Magnus’ arms is the quietest place in the world. That they are whole and untouchable, just like this. That if the gods were to give him forever, he would spend all of it here.


	2. ii - Magnus

The Institute is full of bodies. Magnus carries Madzie on his hip through the halls, and does not let himself look among them for Alec’s dark hair. Alec is safe. He feels certain he would know, otherwise. The  _ omamori _ sits in his waistcoat pocket like a tiny flame; it is impossible that its giver is anything but fine. Madzie has been quiet since he found her – he wants to ask her if she has seen the Shadowhunter she had defended from Iris all those weeks ago, but he doesn't. Not least because he is afraid of what she might say.

“We’ll get you to your nana soon, okay?” he says, and she nods, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck. 

He is listening for the sound of the Downworlders’ charge from below, which is the only reason he reacts in time when the battle cry turns to agony. There is a blaze of roaring light rushing down the hall towards them, and he acts on instinct, throws up a portal and leaps through it, cradling Madzie’s head to his chest. He cuts it so close he can feel the searing heat pass by him. There is a moment where he stays, eyes closed and clutching Madzie, barely knowing where he's sent them, only thanking every deity he can name that he did. There are so many Downworlders who weren't so lucky. Shadowhunters, too.

He opens his eyes, and breathes a sigh of relief, seeing where they are. Catarina’s apartment. The safest place he can think of, other than his loft. He lifts his hand from the back of Madzie’s head, and she leans back to look at him, frowning. He summons a smile.

“It’s alright,” he says. “I’ve found somewhere safe for us to wait until the danger’s passed. Are you okay?”

She nods. Magnus sets her gently down. He crouches so their eyes are level again.

“Is there anything you need, Madzie?” he asks. She says nothing, but looks over at the long couches in Catarina’s living room.

“You can sit, if you want,” Magnus tells her. She looks at him as if she's expecting him to change his mind, and when he doesn't, takes his hand. She leads him over to the chairs, climbs up onto a plump cushion and sits, pulling him down beside her with a pointed tug. She seems content to simply stay there, her hand still folded in his, and so Magnus only watches until her grip slackens, and her eyelids start to droop. She must be exhausted.

As she drifts away next to him, Magnus lets himself think again about the Institute. Catarina is working the night shift; it will be a few hours before she returns, at least, and he cannot leave Madzie alone in all that time. Hours, then, of not knowing who has won. He keeps an air of practised calm, knowing that Madzie will sense it even in sleep if she is anything like as powerful as she seems, but a parade of sharp-toothed fears are dancing in his mind, and most of them wear Alec’s face, though others appear, too – Raphael, Clary. Alec’s siblings. Even the other vampire, Simon. It is a torment. Time is supposed to fly for immortals, but Magnus has never felt the drag of each second so profoundly as this, waiting for Catarina to arrive so he can go, can know for sure. Whatever the truth, whatever he finds, it cannot be worse than what his imagination conjures for him in these hours before the sunrise. He wishes he had remembered his phone.

“Magnus?” Catarina’s voice,  _ finally _ . He stands, and the movement jars Madzie awake. She looks around with sleep-blurred slowness, going still when she sees Catarina at the door.

“It’s alright,” Magnus tells her. “This is Catarina. You can trust her.”

Catarina’s eyes are wide, flitting between Magnus and Madzie with something approaching alarm.

“What happened?” she says warily. Magnus can only guess at what she is picking up from him – she has known him for too long to be fooled by any pretense.

“Catarina, I need your help,” he says. “Madzie needs someone to watch her, but I have to go – the Institute was attacked.” He looks her dead in the eye, hoping she understands. “Alec was there.”

Her brow creases, and it looks like pity. He knows what she is thinking – he cannot stop himself from thinking the same thing – but she stops herself just short of saying it, and he is grateful.

“Of course,” she says instead. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” He is already summoning a portal. “I will be back. Madzie?”

She looks at him with her big dark eyes.

“You’ll see your nana soon,” he says. “I promise.”

She doesn't speak, doesn't even nod – her gaze condemns him. He waits for a response for as long as he dares.

“I’m sorry, sweetpea,” he says. The portal stretches in front of him. He steps through, and can smell burnt flesh the second his feet touch grass. There must have been dozens of Downworlders in the operations centre when the sword was activated, Seelie, werewolves, vampires… all dead, wiped out as one. The ache of it is too large to examine – he cannot let it distract him. The portal has spat him out at the back of the building, the tall spires stretching up against the morning sky in front of him. There are small groups of survivors or relief workers – he can't tell which – scattered around in states of semi-shock, some injured, some crying. Magnus does not stop to talk to any of them. He starts to make his way around to the church steps.

“Magnus!” He turns at his name, recognising Izzy’s voice. She is standing with Victor Aldertree, who looks far less pleased to see him than she is, and a handful of other Shadowhunters that he doesn't recognise. He approaches only because she might know where her brother is, and the fearful beast in his chest is desperate for assurance. He can feel the whip of its tail across his ribs.

“Isabelle,” he says, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She smiles. She looks paler, weaker than he is used to, but her eyes are clear.

“You, too,” she says. “Have you seen Alec?”

Magnus’ stomach drops. He had not considered that Izzy would not know — there is nothing that Alec would have let come between himself and his sister, if he had been able to stop it. Magnus knows from experience. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he says, barely keeping his voice from shaking. Izzy flinches as she realises what this means.

“We lost him during the fight. We were on the roof, but he said–” she can’t, or doesn’t, finish.

“Isabelle was in a weakened state. Alec asked me to take her to safety,” Aldertree takes over, his tone as cool as ever. Magnus processes this silently, despair creeping around the corners of his heart like frost, like ivy.

“Magnus,” Izzy says. He sees his fear reflected in hers. She swallows. “Alec’s going to be okay. He has to be.”

She is trying to convince herself as much as she is trying to convince him. It does not work, but Magnus nods anyway.

“I’ll tell you when I find him,” he promises, and goes.

The front of the Institute is busy with Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike. He sees Raphael standing with what little of his coven survived, and the werewolf, Maia. He passes both of them by. He has never been more attuned to the thud of his heart, the sound of it uproarious, the rush of blood in his ears a tuneless accompaniment. Through the rush of people heading through the church doors, a moment of stillness catches his eye, and in a second he has crossed the space. When he is close enough to grab the fabric of Alec’s sleeve, the relief is so strong he shakes.

Alec turns, and in the instant before he has pulled Magnus into him, his face, marred with fear and exhaustion, is the most beautiful thing Magnus has ever seen. He is blessedly real under Magnus’ hands, as solid as an anchor, and Magnus sends wordless thanks to the universe, too overcome even to string a prayer together. Alec pulls away first.

“Magnus, I thought–” He cuts himself off as if the thought is too terrible to finish, his shoulders heaving still with unsteady breaths. Magnus would do anything for him, he realises.

“I found Madzie,” he says, hoping to straighten the crease of Alec’s frown. He knows he is most himself when he has all the information on which to act, and so he volunteers this, what little he has, easily. “I got her out just in time, I took her to Catarina’s. She’s safe.”

Alec nods, but looks a million miles away.

“Look, Magnus,” he says. His eyes cannot seem to settle – Magnus wishes he could convince him that whatever he has to say, he can, freely; he knows he worries about his words, gets frustrated when he can't find the right ones, but Magnus loves every pause and stutter, and always finds the meaning. Alec is quiet, but Magnus hears him all the same. “On every mission I’ve ever been on I’ve never felt that type of fear. Ever. Not knowing if you were alive or dead I– I was terrified.”

His eyes find Magnus’ and stick, and Magnus lets his words sink in and is for a moment stunned. A slow warm rush pulls over him. He reaches for Alec’s elbow to check again that he is real.

“So was I,” he says. What a marvellous, terrible thing has happened to him.

“Magnus, I– I love you.” Alec’s breathing finally slows, like these words have unblocked his throat.

Does the world stop, or does Magnus only imagine that it does? He cannot help the dazed shake of his head – he wonders if he will ever learn to see Alexander Lightwood coming. He feels utterly breathless.

“I love you, too.” It is the simplest fact in the world. Alec kisses him then, heat and adrenaline, and he is amazed, constantly, at how new it feels. How, after hundreds of years, he feels remade by Alec’s presence. He kisses back with all surrender until Alec pulls away, eyes closed, leaning down so their foreheads touch. Magnus watches his face – the scar that splits his eyebrow, the thick lashes, the pink mouth. He smiles where Alec can't see him, small and shaken, feeling like lightning.

Alec pulls their bodies together like an inch of space is too much, and Magnus can feel his trembling breath against his neck, the way he burrows into Magnus’ shirt like he will never find home anywhere else. Magnus wraps his arms around him as tight as he can and feels fiercely, rubs his thumb over his shoulder and swears the whole Earth shifts to make room for them.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear a literal choir of angels descended upon my front room as soon as I saw that Arm Grab™. I have never been more blessed.


End file.
